Chapter Eight
Penelope
I wore an apron. I knew it was insane. I also knew that guys like James Harrison liked girls like me in an apron making them dinner. Camden sat in the corner in a bouncy chair cooing to himself.
He had a bouncy chair now. That was something new. So much was new. It wasn't that I hadn't been able to provide for him before, but now, Harrison had money for everything. I mentioned that I saw a bouncy seat that I thought Camden would like and suddenly we were taking one home. I needed a couple of new bottles. so when I went to pay, Harrison was there giving them his credit card. I felt bad taking his money. I knew that I shouldn't, that Camden was his baby, but I didn't come here because it was his responsibility to raise our son. I came here for help, for safety. I didn't want him to think I was taking advantage of his generosity.
I played a quick game of peekaboo with Camden as he sat in the seat. I stirred the pot on the stove. Homemade sauce, just like my mother used to make my father. I had a feeling that Harrison would appreciate a home-cooked meal. I wasn't sure if he could cook or not, but I kind of doubted it. Before he asked me to move in, he said he ate by himself almost every night. He was definitely a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Hopefully he would appreciate a real meal. He only ever drank water, which was still evident by the lack of anything in his fridge.
He took me grocery shopping, and said anything I needed or wanted I should get. Mostly that meant fruits and vegetables and ingredients to make my pasta, and some formula for Camden. We didn't need much. We'd been living on a lot less. I protested about him paying for so much, but he wouldn't hear of it. He said that now that we were staying here, we needed to get used to being taken care of. If he only realized how difficult that would be for me, maybe he wouldn't have suggested it like it was no big deal.
My father had passed away when I was fourteen, and my mother had never really been the same after. And then it had just been the two of us, and while that was a great relationship, when she remarried, I moved away and our relationship changed. It wasn’t that he was a bad guy. He just wasn't my dad, and I struggled with that. But she was happy, and I was happy for her. My mother was a wonderful woman and she didn't deserve to live her life alone.
I remembered the night we got the call. The police officer on the other end of the line asked for my mom. When I questioned him, he wouldn't tell me what was going on. That was when I heard those words: it's going to be okay, it was an accident. What they didn’t realize was that how that accident completely changed my life. It changed how I viewed people and the rest of the world.
After a year, I packed my father's clothes and took them out of my mother's closet. I knew she'd never be able to do it herself. She never said anything to me about it afterwards. One day they were gone and she acted like she didn't notice. I knew that she had, but if that's what she needed to tell herself to make herself feel better, then so be it. They vanished, just like he did.
I never asked to see the body. My mother had identified him and that was good enough for me. I wanted to remember him as he had been, happy and healthy and whole. I didn't want to remember him lying in a morgue, splintered into a million pieces after a horrific car accident. That wasn't my dad on the table. I wouldn't let that be my memory of him.
I heard the door open, and suddenly I didn't know what to do. Should I welcome him home with a hug and a kiss? Were we even there yet? Sleeping together a couple times and having a kid together didn't mean that we were any sort of official couple. As he rounded the corner, I wanted to reach out and welcome him home, but he didn't move, so neither did I.
“I hope you like pasta. I remembered you always liked to eat it at the diner.”
His face brightened. “That’s great. I had a long day.”
“It seems like every day is a long day for you.”
“These past few weeks have felt like that. Thanks for making dinner. You didn't have to…”
I interrupted him. “Yes, I did.” He took us in without question, this was the easy part. “The least I can do is make sure you come home to a good meal. Besides, I haven't had anyone to cook for in a long time. At least, no one who appreciates my mother's recipe like I do.”
“Well, I certainly have an affinity for red sauce. But can we sit down for a second? We need to talk.”
There it was. The I don't think this is going to work conversation. I had been so sure that coming here was in Camden’s and my best interest. But maybe I'd been wrong. This was too much to put on Harrison. He hadn’t asked for this. Neither did I.
My heart clenched in my chest.
“Let's eat when we talk, it always seems to make these things a little less uncomfortable.”
He nodded and pulled down two plates, scooping out food for both for me and then himself.
“This smells amazing,” he said as he sat down at the table, immediately taking his fork and digging in while I sat quietly for a moment, before his eyes came up to my face.
“Oh shit, are you religious? I don't pray or anything, but you totally can.”
I laughed at him. “No, I'm not religious. I just don't think I've ever seen anybody eat like that. This isn’t your last meal on earth.”
He stopped shoveling for a moment and smiled at me between mouthfuls of spaghetti.
“I haven’t had a good meal like this in a while. Well, since the diner.”
“You stopped coming.”
“I thought you wanted me to remember?” He paused for a moment, looking pensive, then set down his fork.
I looked at Camden, who had fallen asleep in his chair. “I remember.”
“I wanted you to stay. I think I’ve made that clear.”
“Well, I’m here now.”
He reached across the table and pushed an auburn strand behind my ear. “You certainly are.”
I chewed on my lower lip. If he was about to push us out, I needed him to do it fast. Because my feelings for him had come flooding back. And I couldn’t stop them.
“Do you want me to leave?” I asked.
“Leave?” He looked concerned. “Why would I want that?”
“Because this is too much, because you can’t handle it.”
“Penny, no! I want you here always. I wanted to tell you I’m going undercover for the next week or so, getting information from the organization that came after you. I had the guys in tech look into the name and number of the man who gave you the card. It links to a chemical facility just outside the city. We think that’s the organization behind the attacks. Purest something or other. I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. I wanted to tell you that you’ll be alone for a while, but I have people on it. There will be eyes on you.”
I sighed, feeling relief, but also fear. I didn’t want him to go. “Will you be okay?”
He lifted my chin. “Of course I will. I’ll come home to you, I promise.”
I leaned forward ever so slightly. He took it as a sign that I was finally letting him in. His lips grazed mine carefully at first, and then he kissed me fully. It nearly took my breath away.
All this time I had wanted him.
Needed his touch.
And it was finally here.
Our moment.